


His Favorite Work of Art

by ScullyLovesQueequeg



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Complete, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLovesQueequeg/pseuds/ScullyLovesQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder muses on his partner's beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Favorite Work of Art

The first time he really saw her, he had realized he was a little late to the party in realizing her beauty. He saw her all at once, like the way one examines a fruit; he did not give her physical being much attention because what mattered was that she was capable of keeping up with him.

_And was she ever able to._

She did not miss a beat in her observations, and her medical expertise provided proof for things that were otherwise out of his league to prove. He was eternally thankful for that. She had seen a serious professional where others had written him off as a loon, and it was another thing he would be eternally thankful about.

But now, he noticed her beauty.

That did not come all at once. It came slowly, like the demise of a poorly hand-knitted craft; sometimes the frayed ends would stick out, and sometimes, rows would unfurl before him, exposing parts of her—physically—he had never noticed. Emotionally, she was just as closed off as ever. She rarely, if ever smiled, and the silence that sometimes lapsed between them was punctuated with sighs that spoke volumes.

He saw her in parts: her hair, the length, the way it was cut; Her hands, how soft they were, the size, the way they moved to push her hair back behind her ears when she was uneasy; her hips, and how they swayed when she walked; her eyes, and how they seemed to always be half lidded in caution; her lips and the frowns they were usually pressed into.

Like the one she had now.

"Mulder, what are you staring at?" She asked, and Mulder shook himself out of the reverie he was having.

"Nothing, I was just thinking." He admitted, looking up at her face from where he was sitting behind the desk. She didn't seem convinced, if anything, she seemed displeased with Mulder. She gave him a disgusted sigh.

"You weren't listening to me again," She said, and he looks down, and using his fingers to brush the back of his neck because it's true: he had not been listening.

He had not been listening because he could not understand her science. Mathematical equations could not begin to express the gentle curves of her body that contrast with the sharp, angular suits that she wore; there is no hexadecimal value for the color of her hair, and if there was, it will never express to him the exact shade of red (he presumed, from the second hand descriptions) her hair was. There was no word in any written language to describe her beauty, but the ancient Romans would have gone to war over her, and he was sure, in all her intelligence and brilliance, she would have donned a helmet and lead them into war.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired."

"You said that last time. You're not tired, you just don't care. What are you thinking about?" Her question is asked with a certain persistence, and he confesses,

"You. You're--you're beautiful and I'm sorry I only ever noticed it now. I was thinking about how we've talked to hundreds of people--and the first thing they notice about you is your quiet, downplayed beauty, and here I am--I spend every day with you, and I never noticed. Or I guess I've never thought about it much." Mulder admitted, though reluctantly. His tone was one of intimacy, and he glanced up at her to gauge her reaction. She was taken back because it was strange to hear this coming from someone she worked with. Her expression softened, and her surprise produced a faint blush in her cheeks, which Mulder saw as a sign of genuine surprise; she had not expected to hear this from him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Her voice is unsure, and carefully, her fingers moved a few strands of hair behind her ear, and his eyes followed the action, noting how even and well trimmed her nails were. Her hand was placed back on the desk, to help support her weight as she leans forward.

"I'm doing fine--better than fine, actually. I know, it's unprofessional. I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable." He said, with an apologetic look, his tone still soft and intimate.

"No, I'm just surprised. I guess I never expected you to notice,” She said, her voice low and matching the intimacy of his. “I thought that the only thing that excites you was your job.”

“That's unfair and untrue,” He said, though it was light-hearted, and followed by a short chuckle. “I am also excited by the glossy pages of _Penthouse_. You know, I read an interesting article about a Japanese autopsy performed on an alien. I also have the issue where Jeff Kamen talked about the great government cover-up regarding the cure for cancer--”

“Mulder.”

“--You get my drift though,” He said, straightening up and regarding the less than amused look that crossed her pale features. “I notice things.”

Like the way her brow is slightly furrowed in annoyance.

Or the way her breathing has slowed to a more relaxed rate.

Or the fact that she is no longer leaning on the desk, but rather standing up straight and folding her arms over her chest.

Or the fact that her watch is exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds too quick.

Or that she never wore shoes that had less than 3 inch heels and that for every stride he took, she needed 2 and half to keep up when they were walking if he was being brisk.

He noticed that she had exactly 37 pairs of shoes, and rotated between 12 blouses and 7 different suits.

He notices the little things, like the pallor of her skin in the afternoon sunlight, or the way it seems to glow when the conditions were perfect.

 

But she doesn't ask him.

“Well, if you want to continue to stare, you're should consider taking a picture. It'll last longer.” She said, and his smile grew, but took on a nervous, fleeting quality.

The remark made granted her an embarrassed smile, from Mulder and his hand traveled to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. Everything about him said awkward, and yet he exuded a certain confidence about him when he spoke of his work. But at the moment, admitting that he found her looks immeasurable by any method known to man was proving to be more difficult than any task the pair of them had faced so far, so with another quiet chuckle, he dismisses it, and continues as though nothing had happened, placing both hands down on his desk.

“I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Could you repeat what you were saying?”

She was reluctant to repeat herself, only to have Mulder tune her out again. Their eyes met, however and he gave her a slight nod. She returned his nod, and using both hands to sweep her hair back, she continued with her theory, dictating to him and the desk what she thought.


End file.
